Black and White
by Requiess
Summary: Life was simple- there was right, and there was wrong. There was black and there was white. Life existed, but so did death. When the Capital blurred those lines for a young girl, they started a chain that she would surely break. Cato x OC
1. Prologue

_**70th Hunger Games**_

_Janice Ellsa Hagritay was a fighter. Strong and stable, she was nothing if not utterly reliable. Her life had been a constant struggle, one of which she had always prevailed. When her name had been called, Janice stood proudly before her neighbors and family. Life had been difficult, this was but one more hurdle. _

_It wasn't but a few days in to the beloved Hunger Games when Janice discovered the startling truth of the games. She had never previously understood the secrets of the games- afterall, no civilian could ever imagine it. Yet, as the night rolled on endlessly after her first kill, she finally understood. Emotions flooded her brain, attacking her with vengance. At first she sobbed, her body shaking against the camera that moved repeatedly in attempt to adjust around her thigh. Her mind was plagued with images of the girl from district eleven, writhing furiously on the ground with Janice's axe in her chest. Blood spurted out of the tributes breast, splattering on Janice's shoes as she gaped at the casualty. _

_The kill hadn't upset Janice as much as she had anticipated. Rather, it was the very fact that she felt so immune to remorse that devestated her. Two daysin a world controlled by the Capital had destroyed her soul. She had became a killer. _

_Lethal- it was always an undescriptive word for Janice. What was lethal? Were the animals that wondered around the woods, preying on their weaker counterparts lethal? What about the trees, crashing down to the ground as lumberjacks cleared out of the way? Surely the Career tributes, romping around the arena together not unlike a viscious pack of wolfs- surely they were lethal. But she, Janice Ellsa Hagritay, daughter of humble parents and beloved older sister of three- a girl with strict guidelines yet high tolerance- was she lethal? That was the first time that she ever had to ask that question, and she wasn't even sure she was interested in the answer._

_That night, as the false thunder rumbled on, Janice was finally able to fall in to a deep slumber, only to be traumatized by an even worse vision. Her nightmare started with flashes of light raining in the darkness, illuminating the scene dully. The place was familiar, her home, she realized. The dusty wooden couch was crowded with her family sitting tensly. Her father was a large man of tall stat__ure, a long beard and stern features. He was holding on to an infant, his eyes narrowed in on the screen with a blank expression. Sitting next to her father was a boy of seven, clutching on to his mothers hand. The woman was a rather aged beauty. She had dark, curly, brown hair that had been hastily pulled back in a ponytail. Her skin was pale with small yet dark freckles seemingly painted unevenly along its surface. Her blue eyes watched the screen frantically, her breath steadily increasing in tempo. Janice watched painfully as her twelve year old sister walked slowly in the room, her hair blocking her face as she walked, staring at the girl met no ones eyes as she slumped to the floor at the mothers feet. Her sister raised her head, staring forward. As hard as she tried, she couldn't see what they were watching. It wasn't even as if it mattered, Janice already knew. They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, focusing on the screen. Suddenly, with a blinding flash of light, blood projected from the screen to the family. As it began to coat their skin, their skin began to bubble. Their bodies writhed silently,even the children in the pain induced pose. Janice tried to run to them- to help them. As she became closer, the ground beneath her became unstable. Janice ran as fast as she could, as hard as she manage- yet when her legs gave out, her body came crashing down. She landed with a thudd, her hands reaching to the ground to stablize herself. _

_The ground was no longer solid. It had turned to be that of a jello-like state. It was dark and unstable- completely foreign to the girl. She tried to crawl her way to her family, but her efforts proved in vein when her hand broke through the matter. Dark crimson liquid began to seep out of the whole, covering Janice in searing burns. The pain waa unrelenting, and the strong and stable young woman began to scream violently. The pain suddenly stopped as she screamed continuosly. When she opened her eyes, she had to blink as her eyes adjusted. Her throat was sore and her eyes were stained. It was day three._

_Janice's experience for the duration of the games from that night on was different. When the realization occured, she had changed. She had killed several more tributes, slaughtered them in cold blood. When it was finally down to Janice and another tribute, it was no secret that the odds were in her favor. The only tribute left was the obviously insane Annie Cresta of district four, whom had managed little more than shouting at the sky and laughing at the dirt. She talked in ryhmes and if it wasn't for a suspiciously large amount of gifts, she would have died of dehyration weeks prior. Yet, as Janice walked through the dirt path on her way to a familiar stream, a loud roar could be heard. Water rushed in to the arena,sweeping everything it touched with it._

_Janice was no exception._

_The odds were no longer in her favor. She was no longer a fighter. The Capital blurred the lines between black and white once again._


	2. An Odd Familiarity

"Prosperity was for bedtime stories...Before the 'time of darkness'."

* * *

Life hadn't always been so desolate in the lumber district. It had once been a beautiful area, with gorgous wildlife prospering within the abundant trees. Life was wonderful; families lived together marrily, neighbors laughing while clinking their drinks together. Children would climb the tallest trees together, or race through the dense forests. Everybody was happy.

Staring thoughtfully back at the image in the aged, wood-bordered mirror, I couldn't help but feel bitter. District Seven was barren- barren of wildlife, barren of joy, simply lacking life. The times had changed, prosperity was for bedtime stories. Stories altered from family to family- details altering as the generations passed. It was but one thing they all had in common. It was a long time ago- before the 'time of darkness'. The community was prosporous, yet close and humble. Yet, as the dull hazel eyes stared blankly back at mine, these stories seemed like just that- a work of clear, intricate fiction.

Afterall, where was the rich satisfaction in life so blatantly obvious in the tales, now?

Suppression, depression, homicide- and that was just the tip of the so-called conspiracy theories. Conspiracy theories was the accepted terminology for the blatant truth. It was no secret- perhaps from the citizens of the Capital at most- that corruption was the source of power in our nation. Nobody in the districts had the ability to better themselves. Many were no longer even allowed the privledge of life. At the thought of untimely death, my eyes darted from my reflection. It was not a decent nor pleasant subject to ponder at any moment, but that morning the thought proved particularly horrifying.

I moved my hand to the thin black hose that was wedged up against the counter, tapping the brass brim lightly. I waited, my pale hand holding steady, for any sort of liquid to seep out. It failed to do so, as I had inevitably predicted, yet the prediction had not proved to make the defeat any less irritating. Annoyed at the consistant failure of the old tube, I pulled the slack in the air to heighten the hoses angle and, more out of anger than the obvious lack of sense on my part, I brought my opposite hand down to the brim and slammed it against the wooden counter. Each time I repeated the action, I caused a small semi-circular dent to appear on the surface. The impressions, however, failed to be of great significance. The slab of wood we used in the kitchen had always been temporary. With all of the chopping, chipping, and soft purple stains the wood endured, our counters never lasted past the first year. Even then, by that time, the wood was so worn that no damage could be seen. It was a fairly expensive cycle for a family of humble means, but my mother had always insisted that it was a neccessary one. It was a celebration of sorts.

Every year, exactly three days after the annual Reaping of unfortunantes, as my mother would call it, we would travel to this small market downtown. Most of the products were home-made or used for many years before offered up for sale. Few people made their way to that area, as theft and fraud weren't exactly uncommon occurrances. Yet in this one small corner of an area crowded with vendors, my mothers fantasy lay. Slabs of wood of many colors and patterns, ages and sizes, would be on a proud display. Most of the wood was ordinary, something my father could have brought home. There was something about the vendor, my mother would explain, that drew her in. I never understood her fascination with that place, but I never argued, and we would go faithfully. Whenever a close loss occured the years prior, I would even beg her to go. Anything to satisfy her.

I lost count of how many times I slammed the metal in to the dark wood before I felt the beginning of a throbbing pain in my thumb, causing me to stop immediately. I dropped the hose on to the counter angrily, huffing as I grabbed my thumb and held it to my chest, grumbling at the cruel irony. I had hit my own thumb with the defective hose. After a moment,the pain dulled and I examined my thumb. It was a dark pink against my pale skin, the very top beginning to change color drastically. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity before making my way out of kitchen. The old wooden boards creaked eerily beneath my feet as I walked. It was the sort of odd, out of place noise that would be mentioned in stories- not the happy, before the Capital went stupid, stories- but wisetales nonetheless. It held little effect on me, however. The floors had aged long before I was born, and now it seemed they never stopped- practically groaning at the thought of the stress they had endured.

The hallway was narrow, with concrete beams and dark brown, almost fabric-like walls. I curled by thumb to my palm, running my fingers down the wall as I walked. When I reached the door, I bent down and slipped on my worn down steal-toed the heavy door open, I was forced to blink rapidly to rid of the painful attack of the suns strong rays. Hopping from one wooden step to the next, I leaped to the plush grass with a soft thudd. I rounded the house, my eyes immediatley narrowing in on the side as I walked. I didn't even need to travel four meters before I spotted the familiar hole in which the hose traveled inside from out. I stepped over to the hole and wrapped my fingers around the hose, following the outside lead. As it neared the ground, I crouched to further examine the condition. Spotting a sharp turn, I raised my brows. I put both of my hands on the section, using my left hand to turn the material sharply. To my surprise, the material

l inflated- a clear sign that the water was then flowing freely.

The thought made me chuckle quietly- it had all been over a kink. How simple.

Quickly, before I even had the time to stand back upright, I heard a familiar voice that made me turn my head. "Oh Nancie!" The elderly woman- Mrs. Bellino, I recalled- called over to me. She was a very sweet woman, so I resisted the strong urge to roll my eyes at her, but she had lost her sanity years ago. "I thought I'd find you down by Alley's!" She shook her head softly, a kind smile rolling on her features. "Oh, how crowded it is- I'm glad I found you here."

When she finished speaking, I jumped up and curled my fingers, giving the woman a small wave. "Hello, Mrs. Bellino," I began, "Yeah, I guess it would be." I shrugged, wiping the grimey material from the hose that had collected on my hands on to my pants."Reaping today." I explained quickly, as if she didn't already know. The thought was actually pretty hysterical- the mere thought that somebody could, for one moment of their lives, forget about the Hunger Games.

The Capital took every precaution against anybody ever having the privlege of forgetting, that was for sure.

In fact, I was absolutely positive that the woman, in particular, could never forget. I had heard stories when I was younger about, before I was ever born, a thirteen year old boy named Brandon Bellino. My sister, Janice, could have been no older than eleven herself when she would gaze across the street, watching the woman across the street go about her chores. Once, when I had asked about her, Janice took me inside to explain. When she was small, an only child at the time, she had gone to the annual reaping and witnessed a boy, not much older than herself, get reaped. He was our neighbors son. She didn't go in to many details about the boy himself, but it was clear that he had never made it home. Apparently that was when the woman became as I knew her to be.

I never felt right to ask Mrs. Bellino about her son, but I never felt the need. Somethings were better left in the past. Yet, in the entirely same respect, things just peiced together. Janice would have never lied to me- if she said it, it was true. Even if you never wanted to know. Similarly, it made perfect sense. The Capital had robbed everybody else. Why, at least in a disturbed karmic sense, not her? Then there was the night terrors. The strangest thing was, that it happened only once a year, every year, on the day of the blood bath. If I ever had to guess, based on the sobs and screams, Brandon was slaughtered like an animal at the Cornucopia. He never had a chance.

At my explanation, the woman tapped her forehead softly with her palm, her lips trembling as she muttered something I was unable to decipher. "Oi," She finally said, her eyes snapping crisply to meet mine. "It's just not what it used to be...My mind, I mean." She explained. I repressed a smile, nodding as I walked towards her. As I neared, her eyes narrowed. "Rebecca," She began and I nearly groaned. Not only did she continuously refer to me by incorrect names- truth be told, that I was used to as she had never correctly processed who I was- but her tone was a familiar one. A tone of reprimand. "Now, dear, I know it isn't nearly my place, " She began quickly, as if the words were just a formality and she didn't believe them one bit. "But is your mother really going to let you out like that?" She pressed her lips together before continuing, "I mean, you're a bright girl. So, you have'a dress smart, right?" She offered.

I sighed at her words. Was that even meant to be a compliment or a preface for 'you look like a slob'? "The Reaping doesn't begin for a few hours. I was just fixing the water so I could get Emma in the bath." I explained in hope that the subject would be dropped.

"Rebecca-" Of course not.

"Audrey," I corrected lazily.

"Audriana," She attempted to correct herself, although she was still incorrect. How hard was 'Audrey' to say? Honestly? "I wasn't talking about that charade, darling. That's a bunch of hubba-" Her future insults were drowned out by a familiar voice.

"Sissie, _your_ cousin won't tell me what she was supposed to wear. " I turned around to face my eleven year old brother who was leaning against the house. Seth was tall for his age, standing nearly 5'8 tall. He was thin but healthy with tanned skin and curly brown hair. Seth may have been just eleven years old, but he was my baby brother. And, with the exception of mom, he was all I had.

"Of course not," I mumbled. How had I _not_ expected that, I thought. My aunts daughter was an irritating brat who we were forced to deal with so her mother didnt get too 'stressed'. Seth and I both knew that it was total bullshit and she simply couldn't deal with her child, but we had learned early on to grit our teeth and deal with her. I turned to Mrs. Bellino who was waiting patiently, as if our conversation was worth the wait. "I have to go.. I'll see you later."_  
_

"Right. Well, you'll walk me to Reaping. See you soon, Samantha." She nodded before walking to her home. I rolled my eyes before looking back to Seth who was smirking at me.

* * *

"Mom, don't worry about it." I repeated for what had to have been the third or fourth time within the prior half-hour. "The Capital is made up of a bunch of bastards, but I do not know any two siblings who were both subjected to the games."

Well, that was a lie.

"You do not tell me when to worry!" My mother paced from one corner to the opposite in my room as I fumbled with the familiar dress, attempting to put it on correctly. It never seemed to get any easier. "There's been plenty of them!" She persisted.

"Okay, maybe a few." I admitted carefully before quickly adding, "But those are all in the lower districts, where the animals decide to sign up for the slaughter." I chuckled quietly at my joke.

My mother didn't see the humor. She stood still, looking at me with wide eyes. I raised my brows, feeling uncomfortable with her gaze as I was only half-dressed. "You think this is a joke." She stated. "No, it's a game of chance." She began to pace yet again. "Last year you only had fourteen. This year- nearly twenty." She bit her lip. "That tesserae. I should have never let you-"

"Mom, don't worry about it. It won't be me. And, not to mention, the odds are definitley out of my favor."

"Audrey Ann!" My mother screamed, surprising me as I dropped the string of my dress that I was supposed to tie or loop- or something. "Don't you dare joke about that!"

I looked at my mom questioningly before I understood. The misunderstanding made it implssible for me not to chuckle. "I mean to get picked, mom. The odds of me having the _honor," _The word rolled off my tongue dripping with sarcasm "to participate in the almighty Hunger Games." My mother glared at me but stopped talking.

She paused before she began to walk toward the door. "Be ready in fifteen minutes. We can't be late."

I waited until she left to continue getting ready. The rough purple fabic clung to my shoulders and went straight down, failing to touch my skin again until my hips, where the fabric fit so tightly that every crease was visible. The plain dress ended at my knees. It took me a few more minutes of fumbling to realized that the foreign strip of fabric was meant to wrap around my waist. The white fabric set at the smallest part of my waist, and I tied it in a bow in the back. It was a decent dress, for women who were in to them. I happened to hate them.

I made my way out of the room, looking for where my family had went. Deeming the house empty, I slipped on a pair of plain black shoes and walked out. It didn't take me lomg to spot everyone- my mother was speaking to , Seth and Emma behind her. Just looking at them, I was already reluctant to join. Mrs. Bellino and my mother had already lost their mind once that day. Emma was sobbing, as usual, with Seth attempting to calm herdown. Nevertheless, I decided, I had to join them.

The journey to the town square wasn't quite as painful as I had anticipated. Mrs. Bellino had greeted me by congratuating on getting, as she put it, "More chub on the bum," The statement made Seth laugh obnoxiously, causing Emma to point at me and laugh. Still, it was better than I had hoped. When we reached the crowded square, we quickly split up to go to our individual sections. The adults and children who were too young to participate in the Reaping had a particular section cleared off at the furthest distance from the stage.

Spotting an unfamiliar teenager, I found a line forming behind a large metal desk. Taking my place in line, I took the time to examine the Capital record keeper. She was a small woman wearing dark, skin-clad clothing. Her hair was a very light shade of blonde, pinnned up behind her. The sight seemed so odd, yet not completely foreign. When asked about Capitalite fashion, many people would rush to tell about the bright and flamboyant trends. Yet every year, unlike the _extremely_ flamboyant District Seven escort, there was a team of sleek, professional looking Capital employees that showed up.

The line moved quickly and efficiently, more than likely the effect of nobody wanting to be here. Not exactly excluding myself. I watch one person after the other stick out their hand, offering their blood to Hell. I didn't realize that it was my turn until I heard an annoyed voice in front of me. "Your name?" The woman asked me, probably not for the first time, as she looked up at me with expectant eyes.

It took me a momemt to comprehend her words before I could answer, "Oh, uh, Audrey Hagritay." I answered, noting that my answer sounded like a question even to myself.

The woman looked at me for a moment before nodding and looking back down at her desk. Once she had my name pulled up, she looked back up. "Finger." I offered her my hand and she grabbed it aggressively. She used her middle finger and thumb to seperate my pointer finger from the rest of my fingers. Taking some odd device to my finger, I felt my face twitch as it was poked. She squeezed my finger, then pressed it down on to the surface. The machine beeped and the woman nodded once again, "Okay, your good. Next," She called, looking behind me.

I didn't hesitate to leave the desk, walking past a tall Peacekeeper and settled on the edge of the sixteen year old girl section. Most people had already arrived- many of the faces familiar, other not. District Seven was a decent sized area, where many homes were scarcely distributed. It was by no means an uncommon occurance for people to be unfamiliar with others. I looked around at the faces- Peacekeepers, Capital workers, cameramen, other citizens. It must have taken me a longer amount of time than I had anticipated to gaze at my surroundings, because it didn't seem very long after I began that the area seemed to get extremely quiet . Confused,I looked towards the stage.

_Oh hell_, I thought. The sight was worse than I had imagined. Imann Neal, the District Seven escort, looked worse than I had ever before witnessed as he walked across the stage. The man was short, standing little more than five feet tall. He was thin- even more so than usual. Imann's hair was a light shade of peach, spiked in to some odd circular pattern. His eyes were wide-open as usual, though they seemed to have a dark streak of lavender eye make up under and above them. His features were sharp, his skin paler than even my own. His pants were right against his skin, a bright yellow shirt unbottoned half way down. _And to think other districts had the nerve to complain about their idiots._

Imann cleared his throat in to the microphone, the sudden sound blaring through the speakers. I winced at the sheer volume of the sound. As would be expected, the odd little man didn't take any time before he began to speak. His Capital accent was as thick as always, "How are ya'll doin'?" He asked the silent crowd cheerfully. I simply rolled my eyes. Every year, like clock-work, Imann attempted to talk like he belonged in District Seven. It was a horrible attempt, more than likely based on his Capital-taught need to be accepted, as he sounded ridiculous. Of course, it was probably done with good intentions, but as he thought all lumberjacks were complete idiots- it became extremely irritating. As suspected, nobody said a word. "Good, good." He smiled, his optimism not even slightly waivering. "Okay, so I've got this video to show you, it's brilliant." Nevertheless, his Capital habits always came through. He stepped back and looked at the screen.

A familiar tape popped up, one that we were forced to watch every year. It talk about the a failed war and how the Hunger Games were a reminder of the war. It made everything look so happy and upbeat, so _fake._ The video was inevitably sickening, but just like every other year, nobody dared to stop watching. Not with so many Peacekeepers in the immediate area.

As the movie dissappeared from the large screen, my attention went back to the stage. Imann smiled, "Isn't that just _brilliante? _" He inquired. I wrinkled my nose at the thought. Tsking advantage of his momentary silence, I took a second to tuck a brown ringlet behind my ear. "Okay, so- males first!" He declared happily before walking over to select a name. I took the opportunity to look behind myself, searching for my brother. I couldn't find his face, or my mothers, before Imann began to speak again. I found great peace knowing that, under no circumstances, could my brother's name be called. I had one more year of such peace. "Come on down..." Imann began excitedly as he unfolded the peice of paper in his hand. His face lit up as he read it, "Devon Langley." He called before chuckling. I raised a brow at the unfamiliar name, looking over at the boys section.

The crowd was still for a moment- completely silent. It took nearly a minuteof Imann prompting Devon to come on stage until the crowd began to move. People began to move out of the way, stepping to the side with hoarse whispers. Eventually a boy of seventeen or eighteen strutted out of the back, his brows raised at the Peacemakers as they escorted him to the stage. Once he reached the stage, he looked out at the crowd with a sight made me swallow.

Hard.

Devon was of average height, standing at about 5'10-11. That was undoubtably the only thing average about guy. He was massive. Devon's tan skin rippled as he crossed his arms, his muscles obviously of abnormal size. The man had probably worked with lumber since he could hold an axe- more than likely cutting down more trees than he could remember. I would pity any girl with such luck to be his district partner. He projected as much arrogance as a damn career tribute. He could have easily passed off as Brutus, the infamous jackass of a Victor from District Two.

"Now, ladies..." Imanm clicked his tongue, sifting his hand through the names until he finally pulled a peice of white paper up. He walked up to the microphone, slowly unfolding the paper. Although I no longer felt the peace of knowing that nobody I cared for would be drawn, I wasn't afraid. I was never great at math, but it wasn't hard to guess how low the odds of me getting chosen was. It was District Seven, after all. Large families weren't exactly rare. And with large families, there was always that one unlucky one who was in charge of tesserrae to kept the family fed. Yet, as he began to read the name, I felt a strange sense of familiarity.

"Audrey Hagritay."


	3. A Name Like No Other

"With that, he whispered a name. A name like no other."

* * *

"Audrey Hagritay."

The name was familiar, yet so insanely foreign. I knew the source and the reason, yet the name seemed completely uncomprehensable. I searched my mind, in that moment, for the person of who that name belonged. I must have misheard Imann speak, I reasoned. The name couldn't have been mine. And yet, as I looked around at the silent girls, I knew. Their eyes projected relief- relief that it was not their name called. I could see their eyes as they looked at me, some with confusion and others with pity.

_They thought I was going to die, _I swallowed at the cold, unwelcome thought. _They didn't even know me, but they had already decided my fate. _ The thought was worse than just mildly irritating, as thoughts flooded my mind. It pissed me off. _Was their pity even for me_, I wondered. _Or did they know Janice? Is that where they put me?_

"Audrey?" Imann repeated, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Audrey Hagritay, come on up." He urged. I squeezed the fabric on my dress, my body going numb. I panicked, trying decide how to go up. Memories stirred of Janice, walking tall and strong before me to her death. She looked confident as she stood on the stage- effectively calming me. In that moment- I remembered- against all odds, I was positive she would win. After all, she was my big sister. She could have done anything.

Attempting to steady my breath, my feet began to move forward. It felt unreal, like I was stepping on clouds- like this was all just a dream. As I reached the end of the group and saw the isle,I paused. I had to get it together- for Seth, if no one else. My brother deserved no less. Stepping in to the open, I forced my shoulders up- wincing at the heavy pain. I had to stay strong. Ignoring the Peacekeepers, I walked towards the expectant escort and intimidating male tribute. The look on his face nearly made me shiver, but I knew I couldn't show fear. For Seth. The steps were steep- hard concrete that projected a sense of misery. I climbed up the steps, holding my dress tight to my body with one hand. I was directed to stand to the right of Devon. "Oh, look at these two." Imann smiled positively at the crowd. "I think this may be the year," He lookes at us sharply, my eyes darting away as his met mine. "Well, come on you two. Shake hands," He prompted eagerly. At his words, I looked up to face Devon. The man was looking down at me, the same smirk on his face. He looked so confident- like I was nothing. Like I was meat. Meat in the way of him getting home. I forced myself to swallow, biting my bottom lip. I couldn't break down.

My eyes dropped to his hand as it extended, and I hesitsntly met it. My prior suspicions had been confirmed, as his large hands were thick and calloused. My attention was directed elsewhere, but I was just able to hear Imann finish speaking, "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

I was quickly escorted off the stage by Peacekeepers as the Reaping came to a close. The room was dimly litted, with concrete surfaces and a small, barred window. I sat on the creaky wooden bench, hugging my knees to my chest. The minutes seemed to pass at a painfully slow pace. To keep my sanity, I had forced myself to simply zone out. It wasnt an incredibly hard task, as I felt somewhat barren- staringb up at the ceiling, watching as the aged bulb subtly flickered. The differences in light were so minor, I realized, that I was squinting just to see them. For all I knew, the differences didn't even exist. Perhaps I had beeen starring so long that my eyes were beginning to show my brain what it searched for.

And, I reasoned, I'd be quite alright with that. As long as the bulb served its purpose, a distraction from the disgusting, lethal truth- it wouldn't matter. It could be that one truly perfect object in existence, and I would not care.I would still, with dignity, merrily find fault with the Capital-issued bulb.

I heard no squeek, not even a slight scrape-no noise at all until I heard the familiar emotionless voice of a Peacekeeper. "Three minutes," The voice grunted before I heard a loud clashing sound. I knew then that someone else was in the room, but I could not bring myself to look up from the bulb that I had deemed so fascinating. I simply couldnt- it was the center of my sanity. With each movement of light I witnessed, I calmed down just a bit more. It was like I was leaving my body- like I wasnt the one Seth would witness being slaughtered, like I wasn't the one who would be just like Janice.

_Just like Janice._The thought used to make me giddy. Growing up, I had wanted to be just like Janice. My older sister was everything I had ever hoped to be, and yet more. She had handled herself with such grace- so much elegance. The men had loved her. She was kind when she needed to be, yet she was never one to be stepped on. Janice was a fighter, a true badass. Yet, as I stared at the bulb, being like Janice seemed to be the worst possible fate. Janice was dead. She had drowned to death, just another simple casualty of the Capital. It was less than four years since her death, and yet even so much as speaking her name was considered taboo in my household. Everybody still loved her memory, but my mother had always insisted that Janice had died the moment her name was chosen. Even if she had returned, she would not have been the same. She would have no longer been the woman I looked up to. That woman would have been long dead.

My lip quivered slightly, a flicker of emotion on m face for the first time since I had set foot on stage. One thought ran cold, haunting my thoughts.

_Did my mom already consider me dead?  
_

The thought seemed completely ridiculous, but I couldnt rid of it. Just a few hours priorI had been talking to Mrs. Bellino, thinking I had no chance of being reaped. Yet, of course, time had proven me wrong. My judgement was so obviously flawed, so was it really so out there to think I could be wrong about my mother as well? My thoughts were interrupted by a soft, barely masculine voice. Regardless of its volume, it grabbed my attention immediately. I recognized the voice immediatley.

"Seth?" I ask, my voice breaking as I looked at the boy with puffy eyes. I cleared my throat, willing away all emotions. "Where's mom?" I asked.

He shook his head quickly, his eyes shooting down as soon as we made eye contact. "She uh, she's..." He took a momentary break, inhaling deeply as I watched him. "Well, you know, Emma was crying and-"

I loved Seth more than anything I had ever experienced in my life, but I needed to cut him off. He had always been a horrible liar. "Seth." I quickly objected, "Seriously? Come on, now. Where is she?" I asked, letting my legs fall from my chest to the floor.

"Audrey, I'm serious. Mom was.. and Emma got all...It was a mess.."

I raised a brow, a small bitter smile on my face. "So is she coming at all?"He shook his head. I paused before nodding slowly.I stood up, by body screaming at me. It felt cramped- like I had been sitting still for hours when it really couldn't have possibily exceeded a half an hour. I stepped forward awkward and looked at Seth- meeting his puffy eyes once again. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I flinged my arms around him, squeezing him tight to me. My body shook- whether it was from my sobs or his I could not know. I did not want to know. At that moment, as his arms clung to my body, I knew that it was okay. I didn't need to be strong for him.I needed to be there for him, in any way I could be.

"Audrey," He sniffled, pulling his face away from my neck. "You've gotta come back to me-"

"Seth..." I tried gently.

"No!" Seth shouted, pushing himself away from me. "No! You're coming back! You have to." He shook his head. "It's not fair! Not you, too!" He began screaming.

I stepped forward to Seth. "Look, I'll try..."

"No! You'll come back." His teeth clenched tightly together. "Tell me you'll come back!"

"I'll t-"

"Not good enough, sissy." His voice was softer.

I inhaled deeply, contemplating his words. I didn't want my last words to Seth to be a lie. But then again, I didn't want it to be a lie. Seth was everything- the one thing I loved more that anything. My eyes widened as the next thought followed. He was the one person I'd kill for. "I promise." I vowed.

His eyes visably lightened. "You promise?" I nodded holding my pinky finger out as a peace offering. He extended his slender pinky, hooking it firmly around my own.

"Love you, buttmunch." I chuckled awkwardly.

"I love you, sissy." He smiled. I bit my lip before ruffling up his hair. "Take care of her- mom, for me. Okay?"

"Until you're back?" He asked, his pinky finger tightening around my own, to the point that it was nearly painful.

"Duh,"

We proceeded to fall in to a rather emotional, uncomfortable laughter. We stayed like that for the rest of his stay- awkwardly trying to keep eachother happy. Nothing about the situation was okay- not one thing alright. But, while we were together, everything seemed to be bearable. It was more than likely our last time together, it couldn't be one of goodbyes. We couldn't give up yet. Our family couldn't be severed once more.

I heard a loud noise and I looked to my right, only to see a familiar figure. "Time's up," The Peacekeeper grumbled, looking at Seth. Seth jumped up, wide eyed as he looked at me.

"If you dont make it back to me, I'll kill you."

I snorted, my eyes beginning to water again. "Yeah, over my dead body."


	4. City of Hell

_"It's not beautiful. It's the city of Hell. Never forget that."_

* * *

The trip from the Justice Building to the Capital train was an extraordinary blurr. Time could no longer be measured. I had came out of my emotionless state, only to be faced with an entirely different issue. My mind was racing-similar ideas revisiting my consiousness. I had to win. Seth needed me. Mom needed me. Hell, I needed me. The idea of slaughtering innocent teenagers wasn't exactly the most appealing thought, but I knew I could do it.

I had always possessed a strong stomach, I reasoned that it would assist in doing what was neccessary. I was strong. I was a fighter- nothing if not reliable. I had been twelve when my sister was reaped. I was forced to watch her slaughter innocent victims, helping to sheild my brother from the sensitive images. I watched the close up of my sister- gasping for breath as she struggled to break the surface of the unforgiving waters. I had watched as she took her final mouthful of water, her eyes never blinking again. Even before that, I reasoned, I had to watch murder take place my entire life.

Of course, when my father and little sister had died a year after Janice, the ordeal seemed less traumatic. They had died of a common disease in District Seven- it had wiped out nearly a hundred people that year. It was quick, simple - no one to blame.

The Hunger Games had made me tough. They had taken so much away from already- before I had even began to participate in them. They had crippled my life, I just knew I couldn't let them end it.

So, I calculated.

Apparently I had fallen asleep, as the next time I opened my eyes, I was in a comfortable room. I couldn't remember being tired, falling asleep- I couldn't remember so much as getting on the train. Yet, from the moment I opened my eyes, there was no confusion as to where I was. The soft bed was large with the texture of a cloud, the fabric clinging to it like dry, heavenly moss. I knee the way out of the room with a vague familiarity that confirmed my suscpisions- I must have walked to the room of my own free will.

I fumbled with the complex, horizontal lock. It was nothing like we had at home- it twist, turned, and then -after I pulled it up- the lock finally dropped.I reached for the carved brass door knob, turning it until the door opened. The room it led to was somewhat unfamiliar with plush sofas and handmade art decòr. Everything looked so expensive- I had never seen anything like it. Yet, somehow, it did not impress me. I would have preffered aged wood and a damp, musky smell that my home provided any day over the Capital furnishings. My eyes raked over everything nonetheless, until they finslly haulted at something impressive.

And, wow, was it impressive.

It the opposite corner of the room was a metal table with varius items on top of it. Varias _edible _items. Now, my family was better off than some in the even worse off districts, but that meant absolutley nothing. I still had to take tesserrae, and before me, Janice. So, needless to say, the baked goods were nothing if not inviting. My eyes scanned the room again - just to make sure nobody else was around.

When I deemed the area empty,I nearly ran to the table. First, I decided I would try something I was at least somewhat familiar with. Therefore, I picked up the top roll off the top of a neatly assembled stack. The moment I picked it up, however,I knew there was something different about it. It wasn't hard like the rolls I usually ate. No, if anything it conformed to my fingers. And the smell- the smell just increased my everlasting hunger. After quickly glancing at it, it no longer seemed to matter. I shoved the whole thing it my mouth- the taste prompting me to moan. It was like nothing I had ever tasted before in my entire life.

I chewed for a few moments, satisfied as I felt the roll already desolving in my mouth. As I moved to pick up another one, a voice behind me startled me in to accidently dropping it on to the floor. "Isn't the Capital food just glorious? I just knew you would love it!" I did not have to guess the persons identity, I needed not to even let my brain proccess the voice. Nobody else would say such an idiotic thing, making my shudder. Great, I was alons with-

"Hi Imann," I groaned at the escort. I turned, and to no surprise of mine, there stood the flamboyant Capital clone.

The man smiled, his teeth a shimming shade of white. "Hello dear," His words seemed rather rehearsed, but I found no reason to find further fault with him. His eyes shifted to the roll on the floor, and then back at me. "You know, this train goes at a fascinating speed. We should arrive at the Capital in just a few hours!"

"Joy," A somewhat familiar feminine voice made me turn my head. The sight was rather welcoming- I immediately recognized the the woman as Johanna. She was a young Victor, not much older than myself. I remembered watching old interviews of her- she definitley was not in love with the Capital. Her words had been sarcastic, her intentions unclear.

Imann looked at her, and I visably saw his facial expressions drop. His eyes narrowed at her with the animosity that I hadn't realized the bubbly man posessed. "Johanna, how nice of you to show up."

The Victor rolled her eyes, grabbing some yellow pastry and taking a bite. As she was chewing, she retorted, "Just for you, 'course."

"How..illiterate," Imann muttered, his eyes flashing back to me. I was smirking, their conversation humoring me. A smile spread across his features once more, "As I was saying, the Capital is just.." He paused, a somewhat longing smile on his face. His bragging of the Capital was irritating me, and I was rapidly losing patience. "It's just fabulous." He sighed.

"Yeah, wonderfull." Johanna huffed.

Imann paused before looking over at the woman, "The Capital's a beautiful, wonderful place. I dont understand why, every year, you insist on telling the tributes that-"

Johanna scoffed at Imann's words before her eyes narrowed on me, "Imann, the girl doesn't want to hear you boast about the damn-"

"I will not listen to this primative-"

"Then...go?" Johanna's words were slow, as if there wasn't anything more obvious in the entire world.

"Fine," He began to walk towards the door before turning around, "Audrey, do prepare for our arrival," He said in a calm tone, before he walked out of the door.

Johanna snorted, rolling her eyes. "I dont knkw why he always tries to brag about his precious city. Yeah, it's big. Whatever. But we all know it isnt beautiful. It's the city of hell. No one but the Capital fags forget it," She huffed before taking another bite out of the pastry.

I stood there, watching her. I wasn't sure what to say.

* * *

It was only a few hours before the Train entered the Capital. I didn't see Imann, Devon, or the other mentor for the duration of the trip. When I began to physically feel the train start to decrease its pace, I looked over the table at Johanna. The Victor was slouched in a chair, her legs thrown carelessly on to the table. She was currently staring at another pastry. I cleared my throat, but her eyes did not leave the food. "Are we here?"

"No shit,"

I bit my lip, "Wonderful."

"Fucking fucktastic." She smirked, "So, you ready?"

"For the games?" I asked, not quite sure what she was getting at. Of course I wasn't ready for the games.

She rolled her eyes dramatically before continuing. "Nah, I mean to get plucked by fucking idiots."

Not sure if she was serious or not, I chose not to answer. Even if she was, I had no idea what she was talking about. Did Capitalites have some sort of surgery to get beaks? I quickly dismissed the idea. Of course not, I reasoned. Within minutes, I began to hear loud -yet happy- screams. They sounded like they were coming from outside, so I stood up and walked to the window. The first thing that caught my eye were all the bright colors. There were neon colors eyewheres - pants, shirts, shoes, hair..skin. Some of them had tattoos, but others... Some of the others seemed to just possess skin of an entirely different color.

Regardless of skin color or fashion trend, they all had one thing in common. They all looked excited- no, that was an understatement- and were pointing, screaming and wailing in what seemed to be my direction. Confused, I opted to expirement. I raisedmy hand, confused as to their reaction. Did they want my intention? I chose to investigate further, moving my hand back and forth in a smal wave.

They loved it.

* * *

I was the last person off of the train. Three men- Devon, Imann, and an unfamiliar victor walked ahead of Johanna, and I walked behind her. The Capital clones were everywhere, trying with urgency to get as close to us as possible. They were screaming and flailing, pushing and shoving to move forward. Some had odd devices, holding them up to look at us. They callled our names or asked us questions- I couldn't hear Devon, but I knew I didn't say anything.

I made my way in to what Johanna had accuratley described as Hell, not sure what to expect.


End file.
